Happy UnBirthday
by jrenee07
Summary: Matt was dying. Well, not literally.


Matt was dying.

Well, not literally. But if the pounding in his head was any indication, he was now paying dearly for the fun he apparently had way too much of the night before.

He didn't think he'd ever felt this horrible in his life. His mouth felt as if it were full of cotton balls, his stomach was roiling uncomfortably, he could swear his eyes were being pierced by red-hot pokers, and his _head_...

"Oh god," he groaned, as the room spun crazily. Okay, so sitting up, or indeed moving at all, was very, very bad.

Check.

Lying back down again with a muffled curse, he surveyed the situation as best he could from his prone position. He was sprawled, more or less, in the middle of his bed, wearing the red and white striped shirt and jeans he had on the night before. The duvet was pulled up from the bottom of the bed, gathered up on his right side, with part of it draping around his head on the pillow. He seemed to have misplaced a sock, otherwise nothing else seemed amiss.

He lifted an arm to rub his eyes, when he heard...a twinkling noise..and something fell onto the bed.

Matt picked up the object, blinking at it blearily. A reindeer antler hat? With Bells? What the hell?

"Nnnrggghhhh."

The pathetic noise came from the other room. Matt heard a sound like paper crinkling, a mumbled curse, shuffling feet. He cringed. It was all just too damn _loud_.

A few moments later, Mello appeared in the doorway looking like the proverbial dragged-in cat. His hair was sticking up in all directions on one side, plastered to his head on the other. The black sweatpants he was wearing were twisted at the waist, and he hadn't bothered to pull down the pant leg that had ridden up almost to his knee. He leaned heavily against the door frame with his head in his hands.

Matt tried to speak, but his throat was so dry and sandpapery all that came out was a strangled croak.

"Mmmmph," Mello agreed wholeheartedly, pressing the heel of his hand into an eyeball.

He slowly lifted his head, fixing a slitty-eyed gaze in Matt's general direction.

"Never getting drunk with you," he managed, with some conviction, "_Ever_ again." He pointed a finger at Matt as if to emphasize the point. "That cheap shit you bought...."

His eyes widened as he suddenly clapped a hand to his mouth, swaying on the spot. He turned around, propping an arm against the door frame, attempting to take in some deep breaths to fight the nausea. Matt squinted his eyes to read, "His heart was two sizes too small"--accompanied by a picture of the Grinch—on the back on Mello's red t-shirt.

"Ah, Jesus," Mello said, and disappeared.

As the sound of Mello being violently sick reached his ears, Matt reflected that buying all that off-brand vodka and tequila and rum, and then drinking it all in one go, probably wasn't one of their brighter ideas.

He must of dozed off for awhile, because he was startled when the mattress suddenly shifted underneath him.

The gamer opened his eyes to find Mello sitting next to him, holding a plastic cup with a picture of Princess Peach on it.

"Here, drink this."

Matt flinched.

Mello rolled his eyes. "It's just water and Gatorade, dumbass," he said, moving the cup closer, encouraging him to take it from his hand.

When Matt didn't move immediately, the blond snapped, "Take it, you're dehydrated."

He sat up, unable to prevent the whimper that escaped his lips as he propped himself up against the headboard. If someone told him a pygmy with a jackhammer had taken permanent residence in his skull, he would have believed them.

Running a shaky hand through his hair, he took the drink from Mello, downing the contents quickly. Mello reached for the cup, raising an eyebrow. Matt gave it back to him, nodding his head slightly to indicate he was eager for more. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

The blond returned with the refill, watching Matt as he sipped it slowly this time.

Matt cleared his throat. "Wha' happen'd?"

"You fucked yourself up, that's what happened."

The redhead frowned. "I don't remember anything."

Mello snorted. "That's probably because you were already pissed when I arrived," he explained, placing the proffered cup on the bedside table. "By the time you started in on the beer--"

Matt blinked. There was beer?

"Wait, wait, back up the choo-choo..."

"Well, you started babbling from the moment I walked in," Mello shrugged, sitting on the bed. "You thrust a drink in my hand, informed me that we were celebrating, grabbed my arm and dragged me to the sofa."

Matt's eyes widened in horror.

"Did I...Tell me I didn't...?"

"Matt."

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, mate. People say I get kind of friendly when I'm drunk..."

"_Matt_."

"Hmm?"

"Don't be such a git," Mello sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You wanted to show me what was on telly. Some cable channel was showing all your favorite holiday programs for twenty-four hours straight." The corner of Mello's mouth turned up slightly. "There was no snogging or groping involved."

Matt cleared his throat. "Oh. Okay. That's...that's good." He felt his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. "Right."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"I really need to pee," Matt suddenly announced.

Mello stepped back to give him enough room. He made no move to help, but remained close by.

Matt pulled the covers back and scooted to the edge of the bed. So far so good. He managed to get to his feet, swaying a little on the spot. As he stepped forward, his lower back twinged painfully.

"Ow," he moaned, touching the sore spot gingerly.

Mello winced in sympathy. "Hmm. That must've happened when you fell off the coffee table."

"What the hell was I doing on the coffee table?"

"You said it was a better vantage point to help Santa drive his sleigh."

Of course it was.

Mello smirked, tapping an index finger on his lower lip thoughtfully. "Yeah. You were singing 'Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas' at the top of your lungs, when all of a sudden you decided that standing on the furniture was a fabulous idea. You got kind of belligerent when I told you to get down, though, and that's when you lost your balance. You just kind of...keeled over."

Matt decided to just let that one go.

When he returned from taking care of business, Mello was no longer in the room. Matt groaned. Time for a field trip.

By the time he made it to the sofa in the lounge, Matt was exhausted and panting. The blond was reading a book, but he looked up at as Matt slid into the seat next to him.

"So...how come...you aren't feeling the...effects...as much as I am?" Matt wheezed.

"Number one," Mello said, slowly and deliberately, with the infinite patience of someone speaking to the village idiot, "I did not consume anywhere near the amount of alcohol you did; number two, what I did drink was flushed down the loo; and number three, I'm not a chain-smoker."

Matt sat there, blinking at him stupidly. "You rhymed."

Mello shook his head. "Yes, I did," he said, laying his book aside. "And _you_ are obviously still messed up." He stood up. "Go sleep it off, Matt."

He started to walk away, but stopped when Matt grasped his wrist. He turned around, to find the redhead looking at him a bit sheepishly.

"Did I ever mention...I mean, what exactly we were celebrating?"

Mello regarded him suspiciously. "I was under the impression," Mello began, somewhat crossly, "That you were throwing me a belated birthday party."

"What? Birthday party? Why...why would you think..."

Mello threw up his hands. "Oh, I don't know, maybe after the umpteenth time of you saying, 'Happy Birthday' in my face every two minutes!"

Matt furrowed his eyebrows in puzzlement. "But I didn't..." He trailed off, the stirrings of a memory in his muddled brain breaking to the surface. He bit his lip in amusement. "Um, Mello..."

"You said it real weird, too" Mello continued, "Something like, 'Haaaappy Birth-day!'" he exclaimed, in exaggerated manner that made him look and sound somewhat demented.

Matt couldn't help it. It was _funny_.

"Care to let me in on the joke?" Mello asked exasperatedly. "Or shall I continue to let you roll around on the floor holding your head in abject misery?"

"I was...I was imitating," Matt gasped, willing himself to breathe, "Frosty the snowm...you know...when he comes to life..."

He then made the mistake of glancing at Mello's stony expression--which of course made him collapse once again in a fit of giggles...followed closely by pain. The pygmy was hard at work again.

"Mello," he whined, holding his head and squeezing his eyes shut tight. "Please, just kill me now."

The blond was taken aback by the sound of real distress in his voice. He leaned over, touching the younger man's shoulder gently.

"Hey," he spoke softly. Matt opened his eyes, gazing at him beseechingly.

And as the blond looked straight into the watery green eyes of his long-suffering best friend, something inside of him finally melted.

"C'mon, Frosty," Mello smiled, offering him a hand, "Let's get you back into bed."


End file.
